


the giving of gifts

by OpalZvezda



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Death, short description of drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:38:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9177646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalZvezda/pseuds/OpalZvezda
Summary: She wants to help the child, but really, there's only one thing Azami has to offer. [Secret Santa gift for stingynachos]





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the 2016 Kagerou Project Secret Santa, hosted at the tumblr kagepro-secret-santa. This gift is for user stingynachos! Sorry it's so belated - but I hope you enjoy!

_ I wish I had never come to understand ‘time’. _

Somehow, Azami finds that her thoughts always circle back around to these, the what-ifs and could-have-beens. She has been standing outside for... probably ‘hours’. Time has little meaning, here, and that is part of why it is such a source of frustration. The term ‘outside’ is also a stretch. Her little prison consists primarily of her cottage, a mocking replica of the home Tsukihiko built for her - but instead of being nestled in deep, warm woods, the grassy clearing around it stretches on forever, into endlessness, until it meets the washed-out horizon. Her eyes ache from gazing at the bright and sunless sky, so pale it may as well be white. With a sigh she shuts them, sinking down to the soft grass.

Inside the cottage, hardly anything waits for her. A bed she has no need of, a pantry with no food: all she really has are her books, and there are only a few dozen, worn out by years of handling. In the ‘real’ world, they would have long since fallen apart, which is perhaps the only benefit to being here. In the time since she gave up the Queen - the last time she saw the snake - she has reread them each a hundred times. More, maybe. There’s little point to keeping track.

The sameness drags on and on, and everything gradually blurs together until it feels empty and hopeless.

_ A never-ending world. That was your wish. Fool, fool, fool. _

She should have known better than to trust again, but the snake, so much  _ like _ her and so understanding of her problems, had seemed at the time to be a fated encounter. It had come bearing the exact gift she needed and desired most, and like a child not yet used to the ways of the world she had assumed the gift was genuine.

After centuries of being betrayed and hurt by humans, Azami should have known better. She  _ did _ know better, and ignored every warning despite that.

_ I deserve this. _

That particular thought is one she has… often.

Azami considers, briefly, going back inside the cottage to continue re-reading her current book - but abruptly, a child’s wailing scream splits the air. Something not-quite-there stirs as though waking at the sound, an uncomfortable and cold sensation inside her head, spreading down into her chest. She has only a moment’s paranoid hesitation (a trap? a trick?) before standing, striding forward through the grass towards the source of the noise. Whatever or whoever cried out, it went quiet almost immediately.

Without realizing, she reaches out with the power of ‘stealing eyes’.

_ Hanako where are you what’s happening everything hurts _

The thoughts that rush into her mind are a jumble, panicked and swirling, and with a start Azami shuts them out. How long has it been since she used that power, since she used any of the snakes? And yet, ‘stealing eyes’ seems oddly biddable now, as though it  _ wants _ to be used. The cold in her chest continues to spread, curling uncomfortably just under her skin.

The medusa hurries onward, into the taller grasses, and when they drop level suddenly with the bank of a tiny creek she nearly stumbles directly onto the still-weeping child. Oddly, he seems to be soaked entirely through; his patched-up clothes are sticking to his skin, and his hair is slicked down against his face. He cries out and jumps at the sudden arrival of a stranger, scooting away from her and directly into the thin stream of water, and now that he is looking up at her with wide golden eyes, Azami can see blood slowly beading down his forehead.

The boy’s appearance is unsettlingly similar to how she would  _ expect _ the snake to appear in a ‘human form’, but the thoughts she heard earlier were absolutely unlike it, and Azami doubts it would go to such lengths to deceive her. So the question now seems to be, how to deal with a fearful human child…?

“I mean you no harm,” she tries, as gently as possible, kneeling to be closer to the boy’s eye-level. “You are hurt, yes?” The blood seems to be in line with head trauma, from what she recalls. He stares for a moment longer, eyes flicking over her appearance, and slowly nods. Even without allowing ‘stealing eyes’ to probe at him, she can sense his distrust; that particular feeling is easy for her to detect, considering how often she has been met with it. No matter. In a scared child, it is easy to forgive things like that.

“Come with me, boy. I will take care of you for the time being.”

She stands again, offering a hand to the child. He takes it, very delicately, and does not actually use it to pull himself up - Azami is startled by how chilled his skin is, cold and clammy. He is shorter than her when standing, though only by a few inches, and stumbles every few steps - but he no longer seems to be crying, and he  _ is _ following her.  _ Small victories, I suppose. _

Carefully she leads him through the grasses until the cottage once again comes into view; she hears a small gasp from just behind her. “This is my home,” she explains without a glance back. “I’ve no food, but I will prepare you a cup of tea, at least.” As they reach the open doorway, she passes through and goes directly to her kitchen. Her vase-like jar of sun-brewed tea is probably unsuitable; fresh tea is better, though it requires starting a small fire for the water. It is not until she finishes setting it up to boil that she turns and realizes that the poor boy is hovering nervously just inside the door.

“Sit,” she says, and reaches to pull out a chair at the kitchen table. Awkwardly, and still with the worrying limp, he comes towards her and sits down at the chair, hunching uncomfortably. “Thank you,” he says after a moment, and his voice is thin with strain. She sighs, internally. His reticence may be a problem, in terms of getting answers for why a strange child has suddenly appeared in her prison - but despite the way ‘stealing eyes’ is squirming, Azami wants to avoid using it simply to get information.

“I would like to ask a few questions of you, boy,” she says as she strides over to the bed to grab the boy a blanket.  _ The small woolen one should do. _ ‘Favoring eyes’ would be useful, here, to put him at ease with calming emotions; unfortunately, the other snakes are as restless and difficult to call upon as ever. She aims simply to seem non-threatening, and hopes the boy’s distrust will not overwhelm him. “First, would you tell me today’s date?”

“... it’s the fifteenth of August, miss.” His voice is still small, and his eyes are firmly on the table, not following her, but the polite phrasing and prompt answer is a good sign. Without wanting to, she catches the edge of a thought: -  _ she not know? _

Well. It’s the answer she was beginning to expect. ‘Bring in those who die on the fifteenth of August’: her last foolish command to the Queen-snake. If others have been pulled into the never-ending world, though, she has certainly never met them - not one, in the century or so that must have passed since that command was issued.  _ What makes this boy special? _ she wonders as she comes back over and offers up the soft and hopefully warm throw to him.

“Take this. Do you remember what you were doing last?”

That question makes the boy hiccup out a little sob; he raises his hands to his eyes and rubs at them hard before taking the blanket, and wraps it fully around himself, resettling in the chair before answering. “T-the older kids were being mean to Hanako… they said they were g’na see i-if he could swim…” He stops at that, trailing off, lips pressed shut. “But I don’t know how I got here, miss.”

‘Stealing eyes’ reaches out to him, brushes against the boy’s thoughts before Azami can stop it.  _ Swirling, choking darkness surrounds her - lightning flashes, and even under the water it is bright, enough to illuminate the rock just ahead - searing pain at the crown of her head, and the involuntary gasp of shock lets the water rush in, filling her mouth her throat her lungs - _

The memory is vivid, and so obviously of this boy’s death that she’s surprised he isn’t still sobbing in fear - but perhaps he’s already shut it out. Even now, humans shock her with their sheer resilience when it comes to trauma. “... I see,” she replies at length. “And who is Hanako, child?” To distract herself from the fear-filled memory, she goes back to check on the water; it’s boiling now, ready for steeping, and she continues preparing it as the boy replies.

“He’s my friend… Um, a dog, miss. The other kids don’t like him. They threw rocks at us once. And I know they hurt him when I’m not around…” The resigned tone the boy speaks with infuriates her - an anger not directed at the boy, but at his harassers, who seem from that snippet of memory to have gone so far with their assaults that they killed both the boy and his pet. “But he’s my best friend, miss! You haven’t seen him, have you…?”

“I haven’t, child. I am sorry.” She hopes her tone is apologetic enough; she can’t bring herself to turn to the boy, knowing his expression will likely be one of hurt disappointment. More and more, she finds herself wishing to truly help this boy.  _ Perhaps it is possible. _

For a minute or so more, they are both quiet, lost in their own thoughts. The tea could  _ probably _ steep longer, but the silence feels uncomfortable, and so Azami pours out cups for each of them, setting them down on the table and taking her seat before taking a sip of her own. It is flavorless from heat, but the scent is pleasant, at least. The boy seems to be crying quietly, but he mumbles a thank you and sips the tea - making a little  _ face _ at it. She can’t quite tell whether it’s over the taste, or if it’s because he’s been scalded.

“Boy. Do you have any wishes, any desires?” The question is asked almost impulsively, by Azami’s standards. The chill under her skin is becoming unbearable, and she is beginning to understand what it must be: the snakes  _ want this boy _ , want to go with him as the Queen-snake went with Mary.  _ If he can pass back into that world bearing one of the snakes, it will seek out its Queen… _ The dangers of that possibility are great, but if she does not give one of them up to him, then he will be trapped here forever. Before, she might have thought that a kindness. Now she knows better, and suspects the emptiness would quickly become unbearable for him.

He thinks about the question for a long time, gazing solemnly down at the tea. “I wish I could understand why people are so mean,” he says softly. “Maybe if I knew why, they wouldn’t be like that. … Miss.”

_ I don’t understand their jokes. I don’t understand why they think hurting me is funny. I don’t understand why they don’t want to be friends. I just want to be friends. _

The thoughts ‘stealing eyes’ brings her are filled with a confused and fearful sorrow. They are so much like her own thoughts that it almost hurts her - these are the same feelings of shattered trust that caused this snake to be created to begin with, a shield with which to understand why humans were so cruel to her, and a weapon with which to stop them from hurting her.

“I am going to give you a gift, boy.” The cold inside feels like it’s writhing now, as though ‘stealing eyes’ wants to shed her. “I will give you something with which you can understand them, and a way to go back there, unhurt by all this.” How much should she explain, and how much should she leave up to assumption? The boy is  _ young _ . She doesn’t know when humans begin to understand death, and the burden of emotional scars he bears is too great for her to carelessly add more. “If you wish, you can refuse, but -”

“N-no, please!” For the first time, he sits up fully, his wide eyes focusing on her. “I really want to understand, miss - please!”

There is a faint fear in his voice, evidently at the idea of missing this opportunity. Despite what Azami knows, his eager response is startling, though perhaps only because such positive reactions to  _ anything _ she did were few and far between coming from humans. “There’s no need to worry, child,” she says soothingly, and he does relax slightly. “If this is what you wish, then I will not take it from you. Just know, understanding does not come easily, nor is it always pleasant to know the whys of other’s feelings.”

“I’m okay with that.”  _ Not knowing is worse _ . 

The snake is still now. Pleased, she thinks, if the individuals have any sort of emotions, because it knows its wishes will be fulfilled alongside the boy’s. This is it - the reason a human child wandered into her prison, the reason he was pulled into this never-ending world.

“Then I give this power of ‘stealing eyes’ to you, boy.”

With the Queen-snake, Azami had to force the transfer, and the experience was one of blazing, furious pain, because the Queen-snake did  _ not _ wish to leave Her master. With ‘stealing eyes’, the sensation is more comparable to freeing it from its restraints: the cold swirls only barely under her skin, then vanishes entirely and abruptly. A pale no-color light seems to manifest between them for a moment. It feels strangely incongruous above the dark, worn wood and their slowly-cooling cups of tea, almost unreal. What a ridiculous idea, for a medusa to call something  _ unreal _ .

When the light blinks out, the boy’s eyes are unfocused and glowing gently red. She stands, worried something has gone wrong, and moves hardly a step before his eyes flutter shut and he crumples gently against the back of the chair, head lolling to the side.

_ He can’t have simply died, he was already dead - it’s most likely shock, isn’t it? _ Hurriedly, she checks his breathing; it’s slow, and faint, but he  _ is _ still breathing, and a wave of relief washes over Azami. She hadn’t considered that the process might be dangerous to a human.  _ Fool, not thinking it all the way through merely because the snake wouldn’t stop squirming. _

She is uncertain of how to handle an injured human - Tsukihiko had never gotten  _ badly _ hurt, and he was capable of caring for himself, for the most part. But the chair cannot be comfortable, she thinks, and so she lifts the boy carefully up (so light, even though he’s still weighed down by the water in his clothes and the blanket!) and carries him to the bed. It is too large for her, and the boy seems even smaller lying in the center of it, so still he could pass for a doll.

_ He should be able to leave, with a snake. I wonder how, though. _ She’ll help him figure it out when he wakes up, Azami decides, and goes to sit in her rocking chair with the book she was reading. It is in a position that makes it difficult for someone seated in it to see the bed, affording him some privacy - but if he wakes suddenly, he will be able to see that she is still here.

Time winds on quietly, slowly, as Azami reads. It is not until a strange chill starts spreading through her again that she grows concerned, putting the book down and standing up to look and see how the boy is doing.

The bed is empty. The blanket, still waterlogged, is in a heap on the bed, as though he simply vanished from inside its folds. There is an emptiness she didn’t notice at first - deeper than the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of ‘stealing eyes’ leaving her behind. The snake is no longer anywhere she can sense, which must mean that it stole its new master away, back to the world of the living.

It’s possible this is a better option than trying to consciously find the path, but Azami wishes she could have given the boy advice. Something. The power to hear others’ thoughts can be overwhelming, more so than any of the others… but he seemed surprisingly strong-willed under the fearful exterior.  _ And the other option was for him to be trapped here. What’s done is done. _

The rest of the snakes are all wriggling now, though, and it feels like white noise resounding in her head, building into a pressure headache. They haven’t felt so agitated since she gave up the Queen-snake - but now, perhaps, they see a way out and back to their Queen, since one of their number was able to escape. Do they already sense another potential host for one of their number? They cannot communicate, and so Azami cannot tell.

She walks to the door, and gazes out across the grass, no longer lit as brightly as it was when the boy first arrived. Well. If there are more, she cannot leave them to be trapped here.  _ Even if it’s dangerous, they are victims of my mistake. I will fix things, as much as I may. _

Perhaps in some small way, she can make up for lost time.


End file.
